


Three-Sentence Fic Challenge

by Poemsingreenink



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 19:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16393586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poemsingreenink/pseuds/Poemsingreenink
Summary: These are all of the prompts I've filled for the Three-Sentence Fic Challenge that's over on Pillowfort. I don't think any of them actually stay at three sentences.





	1. Billy/Goodnight, magic sword

_ Billy/Goodnight, magic sword _

 

“I’m just going to give it back to her. I don’t need a sword.”

 

The look of absolute horror that washed over Goodnight’s face was so dramatic that Billy wasn’t sure if he should laugh or kiss it away.

 

He sighed, planted the weapon’s tip into the dirt (the move caused patch of wild red roses to burst out of the dry earth, and start growing up the blade) and then leaned on it.

 

“Ok, what do _you_ want me to do with it?”


	2. Emma Cullen/Leni Frankel, cast iron

_Emma Cullen/Leni Frankel, cast iron_

 

Emma crouched next to the unconscious man, and reached out three fingers to hover just above his mouth.

“Is he dead?” Leni asked, her voice thick.

Emma looked up at Leni’s pale, drawn face. Her free hand was bunched tightly in her skirts, and the other still held the cast iron frying pan in a white knuckle grip.

“No,” Emma said firmly. Carefully she reached her hand behind the unconscious man’s head. His dirty blond hair was greasy, but her fingers came back free of blood. “He’s got a goose egg on him, but I imagine he’ll wake up and be just fine.”

“I didn’t mean to hit him so hard!” Leni said.

Her mouth trembled, and several tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Aw Leni,” Emma said.

Standing, she brushed her hands off, and then gently wrapped her arms around the other woman. The frying pan pressed hard and cold against her skirts. Internally, she was in a panic. She’d never seen Leni cry. She’d seen Leni bake seven loaves of bread, prepare a full meal for the field hands, knit three pairs of socks, give birth, and then jot the whole day down in her diary, but she’d never seen this before.

“I was like he just appeared at the front door,” Leni sobbed. “And then he was talking, and then-I’m so stupid. I’ve always thought I wasn’t a violent person, and then I go and crack someone’s skull like an egg.”

“You’re not stupid, and his skull will be just fine” Emma said firmly. “What happened? Was he trying to come inside?”

That question seemed to upset Leni all the more, and Emma reached into the pocket of her skirt for her last clean handkerchief. Leni took the embroidered square of cloth, and blew her nose loudly. “No! He just, he was being far too familiar. He called me ‘dimples’.”

Leni flushed bright red, and then burst into fresh tears.

“You know _I don’t like that_.”

Emma remembered times in town with Leni when men would whistle, call them pretty-doves or block their paths on their way to the general store. The way Leni’s mouth would purse, and twist her whole body stiffening next to Emma’s. Leni who’d always been the one to pull her across the street or into the nearest shop whenever Emma tried to shout back.

_“Stop playing with fire!” she’d hissed at her once. “What will you do if your anger goads one of them into drawing a pistol? You know the sheriff’s useless.”_

“Well, no one can fault you for hitting a man with a frying pan in your own home,” Emma said cautiously. Or at least she didn’t think anyone would. The new sheriff would probably laugh himself sick, and no one was dead. 

Leni sniffed, and rubber her eyes. “Maybe not the town, but I expect Mr. Robicheaux will be very upset with me.”

“Why would Goodnight care?” Emma asked.

Leni motioned to the man sprawled across the floor, his feet inside the house, and his head lying just outside the entry way.

“He said his name was Etienne Robicheaux. And that Goodnight was his kin.”

 

* * *

 

Any anxiety Emma had about Goodnight discovering his relation passed-out in Leni’s doorway (They’d tried to lift him with disastrous results, and Leni had looked distraught at the idea of dragging the man over her freshly washed floor), disappeared the moment he arrived. Goodnight spared one look at the younger man, and then stepped nimbly into the house. Billy didn’t even spared him the glance though both of them remembered to remove their hats.

“Hello Mrs. Franklin,” Goodnight greeted. “Oh, now there was no need to go wasting your ginger tea on us.”

Leni stood nervously next to the table where she’d set out tea and fresh shortbread cookies. Emma stood next to her. She’d been fully prepared to glare Goodnight into civility (Just because he was a town hero did not give his relations the freedom to be calling anyone anything they pleased), but it seemed Leni didn’t need a champion, because Leni didn’t have an enemy.

“Please don’t be nervous,” Goodnight said with the kind eyes that Emma remembered from their first meeting. “I have no doubt that your actions were completely called for. This would not be the first time my little brother has overstepped.”

Somewhat uncertainly Leni sat, and the rest of them followed. Emma was half way through a shortbread cookie before she looked to Billy and said, “Do you want to try and get him to the bed? I could get his feet and you could get his shoulders.”

Billy dunked his own cookie into the tea, and once it was so soggy it was in danger of crumbling to pieces popped it into his mouth. “No, he’s fine where he is.” Picking up another cookie he turned to Leni. “These are wonderful. Don’t let Etienne have _any_.”

Now Emma did glare. What were they playing at?

“What Billy means is that Etienne won’t have time for any cookies,” Goodnight said smoothly. “As soon as he wakes up we’ll throw him over the horse, and take him back to our place.”

A groan floated over form the doorway, and Goodnight and Billy shared a miserable look.

“Oh wonderful,” Goodnight said. “He really isn’t dead.”

“You can’t kill a demon with a frying pan,” Billy muttered.

Glancing from Billy and Goodnight to Etienne, Leni picked up the fifth tea cup that she’d set out for her injured guest, and carefully turned it upside down.

“I suppose family does know best about family,” she said. “Oh please Mr. Rocks. There’s no need to put those cookies in your pocket. I’ll send you home with a whole box full.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're curious, there is one other woman in the Mag7 movie who we only see a few times, but she's usually interacting with Emma. At one point she's holding a baby. They make eye contact for a whole...five seconds at some point. We're pretty sure her name is Leni Frankel...or at least it is now.


	3. Sam Chisolm, wizard

_ Sam Chisolm, wizard _

 

"For the last time," Sam said. "I'm not just going to 'whip up a storm' because you're hot."

"But it's _so_ hot, Sam," Vasquez whined from underneath the wet bandana he'd draped over his face. "My skin has melted.  I will lift this bandana off my face, and you know what you'll see? Nothing but a grinning skull. You will have a heart attack and leave the good people of the west defenseless."

"If I just move weather around whenever I want it has consequences," Sam said, in a tone that suggested he'd given this sermon at least 100 times. "Drought. Fire. Tornados in places there should be no tornados. Is that what you want?" 

"If you make snowballs before any of that happens, then yes. That is what I want." 


	4. Billy/Goodnight, lipstick

_ Billy/Goodnight, lipstick _

 

“Not this one. The name is inappropriate.”

 

Goodnight flipped the lipstick tube upside down. “ _Gash_. Huh, I suppose that could be a alluding to a lady’s-"

 

Billy cut his hand sharply through the air, and his lips, painted with in the tube’s dark red color, twisted.

 

“No supposing. You know what that’s alluding to, and it’s inappropriate. We’re not getting it.”

 

“Emma, what do you think?”

 

Emma had both her hands pressed against her temples. “I think there’s a lot of perfume in here, and it’s giving me a headache. I’m sorry, guys. I’ll meet you at Cinnabon. I’m sure whatever you pick will be perfect.”

 

Goodnight did a quick scan of the store. Ghastly name aside, Billy looked sinful in that shade of crimson and he wondered if one of the women in perfectly winged eyeliner could help them find a similar color from a different brand. 

 

“I like what you’re wearing. Let’s get that one.”

 

Goodnight looked into one of the conveniently placed mirrors that were all around the store. “You sure this shade of purple doesn’t look like the remnants of a glass of Koolaid?”

 

“Not after put we silver glitter over it,” Billy said. “And it’s got a good name.”

 

“Hard to argue with something named _Valkyrie_ ,” Goodnight agreed. “Onward to the checkout line!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I like about this is that I have no idea where they’re going. The club? A wedding? Rocky Horror? Are they in a burlesque show? Concert? Do they just like lipstick and glitter? Is this how they feel they should dress for the matinee showing of Hamilton? Where are you two going!?


	5. Billy/Goodnight, Huddle for warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. The request was 'a fic where Billy and Goodnight engage in the "Oh no, it's so cold we'll have to huddle together for warmth" trope. (It may or may not be perfectly temperate out. ;) )

“It’s cold.”

Goodnight shot Billy a look that he hoped was as chilling as the icicles decorating the trees.  He curled into an even tighter ball, and inched closer to their cheerfully crackling fire. His gloved hands were tucked under his coat, and he’d pulled his hat so low he suddenly wondered if Billy had even received his look. That would have been a shame. Perhaps he should send him another.

“Why you don’t say. I hadn’t noticed.”

Billy sighed.

“It’s dark out.”

Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled.  

“And there are wolves.”

Goodnight pulled his scarf over his nose. It muffled what he said next, and so he pulled it right back down.

“I don’t mind. I have my trusty rifle right here.”

He patted the spot next to him, felt nothing but snow, and then quickly moved to pat the spot on the other side of him which also turned out to be empty.

Billy rolled his eyes. “Your gun’s in the tent. Stop being a jackass, and join it.”

“I will join it when you apologize.”

“I have nothing to apologize for,” Billy said, with such rock solid confidence that Goodnight considered tackling to the ground and shoving as much snow as he could reach down the front of his coat. “I’m right.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Billy shrugged, and sat down on the other side of the fire. “I can be both at the same time.”

A pair of bright yellow eyes appeared in the woods. They both ignored it.

Billy pulled the sleeves of his coat over his fingerless gloves, gathering the fabric into his hands.

Goodnight snorted. “I hope your fingers freeze right off. It would serve you right.”

“If my hands go, our source of income goes, and we both starve.” Billy spat around chattering teeth. “It would serve both of us!”

Billy curled himself into a ball, and scooted as close to the fire as he could. He’d always felt the cold a little more dramatically than Goodnight had, and while Goodnight had no doubt that in a battle of wills Billy would prove himself the victor, he also knew that by the time he gave up he’d have a partner with hypothermia.

That wouldn’t do at all. Goodnight was spoiling for a fight, and a fight he would have. Standing, he marched himself around the campfire, sat next to Billy and pressed himself flush against the other man.

Billy made an irritated noise, but Goodnight just warped an arm around him and leaned their heads together.

“We are huddling for warmth. Not for pleasure.”

“We‘re fighting,” Billy snapped

“Well, fighting with a trembling man made me feel guilty,” Goodnight said.

“I am not-”

From the dark twist of trees the eyes came closer, and a coal black wolf loped into the clearing. He sniffed the air, and then settled himself on the other side of the fire.

Goodnight felt Billy go still. Slowly, the other man turned his head and leaned forward until both their faces were shadowed under the brims of their hats. If Goodnight closed the distance he could have nuzzled against what he was sure were frozen cheeks, and a frigid nose.

“Told you we should have gotten in the tent.”

He felt Billy’s hand slide into the pocket of his coat.

“Shut up, Bill.”

**Author's Note:**

> ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!!!!


End file.
